


Melancholy

by Heylir



Category: Widdershins (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, Inspired by Fanart, Inspired by Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 16:24:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18450257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heylir/pseuds/Heylir
Summary: Even Heinrich Wolfe can’t be merry all the time. But his friends think otherwise.BetweenGreen-Eyed Monster(spoilers for) andCurtain Call.





	Melancholy

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Печаль](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18442253) by [Heylir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heylir/pseuds/Heylir). 



> This work is based on [the fanstrip](https://widdershinscomic.com/wdshn/guest-art) of [Toasty](https://warintheshade.net/) and inspired by the artist’s comment below the page.
> 
> The translation was made by the author. I'd be grateful to be informed about typos and mistakes found, in order to fix them.

    Wolfe put his pencil to paper. He got better on landscapes than human faces, the latter he mostly drew by memory. It was more easy with those who were around every day, but if you saw someone just for an hour...  
    He drew her hair, though the coal still wasn’t able to reproduce its colour. Would they see each other ever again? Not at a fashionable party, of course, but everything is possible. Or would her husband hide her, from the dangers for the Barbers? After everything Voss had told about that...  
    Wolfe added several freckles. Dominik... where could he be now? Outside of Widdershins, perhaps. Maybe, he was going back to Prussia, to his parents. It was the time to send a new album with drawings to uncle Eckbert. Would they meet ever again? Would he see his born places again?  
    Wolfe drew a flower into Florrie’s hair. Of course, he was happy, how could he be not? But these thoughts, thoughts about things that could have been and would never be, brought poignancy with them. But it can’t be helped, one can’t take every road. One can’t have only meetings, without farewells and losses. One can’t, however strongly he wishes he can.  
    He heard Mal’s footsteps beside him. He never interrupted Wolfe’s drawing, never peeked into his album, never asked anything about it — though he didn’t refuse to look at if offered. And now he passed, as always.  
    Wolfe went on improving the drawing, with some sad melody sounded inside him. It seemed to be a violin concert of Vivaldi. The music played in accordance with his thoughts, making his melancholy more light and clear.  
    Suddenly some loud noise broke this harmony. Wolfe looked up from his album. What can it be... singing? But it ended as abruptly as it began.  
    “I am telling you, it’s wrong!”  
    “Tellin’ ya, it ain’t! Wanna ask Wolfe?”  
    “Let us ask him, fine!”  
    As Mal and Ben appeared before Wolfe, Mal jumped into an explanation:  
    “He says I sing wrong! That marmot son’, ye remember? Oft’ play it in pubs.”  
    Wolfe nodded.  
    “Y’ see! An’ he says, th’ words’re wrong. As if he knows anythin’. I ‘eard it!”  
    “I heard it, too. Not in pubs, of course.”  
    “Oh aye, c’mon. Let's ‘ear whatcha heard.” Mal started to sing, and Ben joined in the song.  
     _O’er land and sea I gaily roam,_  
     _Together with my marmot..._  
    Mal couldn’t sing and didn’t like to, Wolfe knew that, but he had never heard Ben’s singing before. He stood primly, with his hands behind him, and took pains with keeping in tune like a good pupil, not being too loud, though with strong stress as if he tried to put Mal’s singing straight. At the time Mal came to a lot of maidens that look at him lovingly...  
    “What maidens, what looks?” Ben interrupted indignantly. “It's the song of a little boy! There is nothing like that in it!”  
    “There is! Wolfe, tell ‘im!” Mal glanced at his friend, seemingly seeking his support, but he looked above Wolfe’s head, and his face brightened visibly.  
    Wolfe had to make a few deep breaths to keep himself from laughing. He clapped the singers, without a sound, and began to explain, with his voice not entirely steady yet:  
    “In the German original text, there is not, exactly. It goes rather like “I have seen many lovely maids, Together with my marmot, If only they had looked upon little me...” But there are several English versions of the song, and often singers, especially children, just skip this couplet. So, in some sense, you are both right,” Wolfe smiled to Ben and Mal, in a conciliatory way.  
    “Oh,” Ben nodded in understanding. “Well, both right is all right,” and he exchanged furtive glances with Mal.  
    These glances and Ben’s easy accepting his draw completely confirmed Wolfe’s suspicions. He wasn’t going to let his friends just get away with it.  
    “Then let us sing it! All together, you know?”  
    Ben hesitated:  
    “Wouldn’t it better if you lead and I join in the refrain? As it’s turned out my knowledge of the words isn't complete.”  
    Mal seconded:  
    “An’ “with my marmot” ‘nuff fer me.”  
    “No, no, that will not do,” Wolfe shook his finger. But he realised that singing all together would allow Mal to slack and made another offer: “Let us sing by a line for each. I will show whose turn is now.”  
    The other two didn’t mind, and the song about the loyal marmot began again, in three voices and a positive major key.  
     _And everywhen,_  
               _and everywhere,_  
_Together with my marmot..._

    And this merry discord drowned the sad violin melody inside Wolfe out. The life was wonderful, and all was for the best in it, and the roads he hadn’t taken shouldn’t be regretted. At least, with Mal being around.

**Author's Note:**

>  _It seemed to be a violin concert of Vivaldi._ — There is a Russian song “With music of Vivaldi” that describes that state of Wolfe's mind very well. One can listen to a musical video of it (in Russian) [there](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UaxGmjrp7-0), and there is a [translation](https://lyricstranslate.com/ru/%D0%BF%D0%BE%D0%B4-%D0%BC%D1%83%D0%B7%D1%8B%D0%BA%D1%83-%D0%B2%D0%B8%D0%B2%D0%B0%D0%BB%D1%8C%D0%B4%D0%B8-music-vivaldi.html) of its lyrics in English.
> 
>  _That marmot son’, ye remember?_ — _Marmotte (Ich komme schon)_ (LV Beethoven - JW Goethe). I haven't found the English version of it, but [there](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wdJZEqYaXEc) is one in German. The lyrics (German and English) [there](http://www.lieder.net/lieder/get_text.html?TextId=6288).
> 
>  _but he had never heard Ben’s singing before_ — _Merry Christmas_ and _Melancholy_ belong to different timelines. :)
> 
>  _It goes rather like “I have seen many lovely maids, Together with my marmot, If only they had looked upon little me...”_ — “Hab' auch gesehn die Jungfer schön, Avecque la marmotte, Die täte nach mir Kleinem sehn” in the original.


End file.
